Between the lines
by jino turtlegod
Summary: Their relationship was hard to decipher, even if one is used to reading between the lines. Triela x Hillshire
1. Kiss

Between the Lines

written by Jino Turtlegod

Gunslinger Girl created by, registered, and copyrighted to Yu Aida, Media Works, and any other company and/or division associated with the creation and/or production of Gunslinger Girl. ADV hold the copyrights to the English version of Gunslinger Girl. This work of fiction is not intended for any commercial purposes but was created for the entertainment of the Author and Fans of Gunslinger Girl.

No copyright infringement was in any way intended.

M Rating. For mature readers only. Some scenes, themes, language, and situations are not suitable for younger readers. Reader discretion is advised.

**Between the Lines**

"Don't touch me!" she screamed at him, as she hugged her knees while sitting down on the floor. She could not bear to see the pitying look in his eyes. She had failed him. She had lost despite all the care and training he had given her. He had trusted her as an equal and she had let him down. Worst of all, he had gotten hurt due to her bad decision. "Please, just leave me alone," she pleaded in softer tone.

He looked at her as her shoulders shuddered with soundless sobs. How could he ever tell her that he had been so scared to find her motionless on the floor, how his knees had weakened at the thought that he had allowed her to die. She was the most important person in his life. She was the reason that he still cared about the cold, cruel world. She was the reason that he still had hope in the goodness of men. He could not and would not bear to lose her. He couldn't take it anymore, and he denied her request for solitude as he pulled her pony tailed head against his chest, tears of his own threatening to spill.

The conditioning she had been given had instilled something in her for this man who held her. Was it love? She had once confessed that she did not know what she really felt for this man who was her partner and complement.

The touch of her lips shocked him, warm and moist, filled with a desperate hunger. It was not the simple kiss of a child but the passionate ardor of a lover.

Her lips journeyed around the vicinity of his mouth, her breath hot and sticky against his lips, his cheeks, his chin…

He tried to protest, to ask her what she thought she was doing. When he opened his mouth to speak, quick as a viper, her tongue slipped between his lips and attempted to tease his own into play.

She still tasted of the wine they had their lunch.

With fascinated horror he slowly became aware that his tongue was dueling with hers. He leaned back against the wall, allowing the tide of madness wash over him. For like a tide, surely this too must pass. A small part of him silently prayed that he would not drown.

He pulled her to him, his arms crossing at her back as her hands gripped the front of his shirt as they fought with their lips and tongues. Pain and warmth slowly spread from where her powerful grip had caught flesh with the cloth. And yet he wondered how she could feel so small and fragile in his arms.

She may not know what she felt or even what love is, but he was a different matter. He had felt love before and knew that the feeling he had for his partner was familiar. There was a dawning awareness in him that the main reason he did not understand her was because he was trying to keep himself from loving her.

Her blue eyes were open, dazed at the flood of unfamiliar emotions and sensations.

It was that look in her eyes that broke the tide of madness. He felt sick and ashamed. The knot of desire he was feeling turned to ash in his heart. He was no better than those demons he had saved her from – those things who masqueraded as men. What was he going to do? Was he going to use her, and cause her pain?

He pushed her away, his grip shifted to her shoulders and tightened. She pushed back at his restraint, her lips still parted in hunger. She did not know if she loved him, but at this moment, she knew she wanted him, desired him, and she had the power to take him.

He called her name as he shook her, his tone angry. It was the angry tone of his voice that awakened her – for she, and the others like her, had been conditioned to fear their handler's angry tone. Like a marionette with its strings cut, she slumped against him, panting and shivering.

She did not know if he was tempting her when his arms once more wrapped around her, his chin resting on the top of her head as he simply held her to his warm body. She did not know or cared, as her exhausted body finally gave in to the numerous shocks it had received and surrendered to oblivion.

It was morning.

The light was streaming in from the open window. A girl with black hair stood silhouetted against the morning light.

"Claes?"

"Rise and shine, Triela," Claes said with a smile as she turned to her roommate.

"I'm cold," Triela remarked as she ran her hand through her blonde hair, the memory of the aftermath of her defeat at the hands of an assassin was still foremost in her mind as it had plagued her sleep for the past few days since it occurred.

"You are? But it's spring," Claes said, her head tilted as she looked at her friend, noting the shiver that ran through Triela. She looked back outside the window, towards the freedom that she will never feel. "The sunlight is so gentle... You should get up. You have to be at the Rec Room soon."

"Yeah. Hold on, I'm not awake yet," Triela replied, she was unsure whether she wanted to shake her head to drive the memories away or to go back to sleep and savor them once more.

"You're slow these days," Claes noted with some concern as she stood by the window, her back towards the other girl.

"A lot has happened," Triela replied sullenly.

"You're worried about your handler?"

"Sure, that's it," the blonde girl replied as she tentatively touched her lips, trying to recall the feel of her handler's lips. Now, if she could just look him in the eyes again…

Owari

Author's Notes:

In commemoration of ADV finally releasing volume 4 after 2 years and 1 month I decided to finally hunt down this little plot bunny. It was getting annoying since it first cropped up after I read volume 3, 2 years and 1 month ago…

07.19.2007


	2. Embrace

Between the Lines

Gunslinger Girl created by, registered, and copyrighted to Yu Aida, Media Works, and any other company and/or division associated with the creation and/or production of Gunslinger Girl. ADV hold the copyrights to the English version of Gunslinger Girl. This work of fiction is not intended for any commercial purposes but was created for the entertainment of the Author and Fans of Gunslinger Girl.

No copyright infringement was in any way intended.

Between the Lines written by Jino Turtlegod

M Rating. For mature readers only. Some scenes, themes, language, and situations are not suitable for younger readers. Reader discretion is advised.

**Between the Lines**

She woke up to the dull ache in her body – the pain made only tolerable by the dose of painkillers that had been injected into her. The throbbing in her right eye reminded her of the battle last night as she gingerly opened the door of the car and carefully stepped barefoot onto the cold pavement, each step sending a twinge of pain running up and down her abused body. She pulled the blanket tighter over her naked shoulders, distantly aware that she was only dressed in her skirt and wraps of bandages. But propriety was the least on her mind at the moment.

She had to find him, she had to tell him personally. She didn't know why, but she had this compulsion to seek him out and have him hear her words.

She found him by their van, staring moodily at nothing.

"Hillshire!"

"Triela!"

"I…" she faltered at the anger in his voice, like a dog who had been screamed at by its master. "I won!" she finished with a confused look on her face.

"You shouldn't be walking yet!" he said angrily as he glared at her. "Get back to the car!"

He couldn't tell her that the reason that he was so angry was due to all the pent up fear of losing her. He couldn't tell her how his guts were in a knot when they lost radio contact during the battle. But he chose to believe in her. As her partner he had to believe in her. He had nearly broken down when he found her bleeding body, blaming himself for the wounds that she had taken. It was one of those times that he wished he had told her that she was his everything.

"I'm fine!" she replied, a bit of frustration creeping into her voice. Why won't he listen?! "The medicine's working fine."

"Please listen!" she pleaded as tears began to pour from her undamaged eye. "I won! I killed Pinocchio! I'm sure of it!" she said like a child reporting to its parent that it did well in school. "It's thanks to the training!"

Hillshire's shock and speechlessness drove a dagger into her heart and more tears came. "Mister Hillshire?"

She wanted to hear his voice, to tell her that she did well. It may not be much. But it was the thing that she craved the most. Not the teddy bears, the shopping trips, or the occasional meal at a fancy restaurant. It was his praise.

"Won't you congratulate me?" her voice cracked, and she began crying. "I followed my orders."

"For you, everything for you," she wanted to say but found that she couldn't voice something that sounded like an accusation. So instead she pleaded once more, "I beat the enemy, won't you even--"

She was surprised when he drew her to him. Hillshire's arms went around her and hugged her tightly yet carefully, as he didn't want to hurt her and he was afraid that the wounds that he had carefully treated the night before would reopen. She could feel the warmth radiate from his body. She felt fearful, a bit hesitant at the close contact.

"Um… Mister Hillshire?"

And then she felt the man's body shaking, the irregular breathing, and the choked sobs. She could feel the wet tears as they dropped onto her cheeks.

"Don't cry Hillshire," she said as she embraced her handler, the previous hesitation fading like the morning mist. "I'm okay."

She couldn't remember who started it, but soon their lips were locked, tasting each other, drinking each other's souls. She pulled him tighter against her, ignoring the screams of her body as she pressed her bandaged wounds against him. All she wanted was to feel him, to meld his body with hers. She pushed him towards the van, one hand scrabbled for the door handle while the other kept Hillshire close to her. As soon as she had the door open she made him sit on the van's floor and climbed onto his lap. She gasped as she felt his hands on her bare waist. Her body felt as hot as molten lava as she laid her hands on his and slowly pulled them up her body –and then she stopped as if someone had dumped cold water on her flaming body. "Somebody's coming!" she hissed in warning.

"There you are," Jean said as he rounded the corner of the house, Rico his constant shadow. "We'll be leaving the rest to Ferro's team. Team Marco will be the security detail, all other Fratello are to head back."

"I see. We've already stowed our gear," Hillshire said as he gestured into the van's interior where Triela was checking that all the crates and weapon cases were secured. She was also cursing Hillshire's ability to switch from fiery passion to dead cold in an instant. She could still feel the red warmth on her face and shoulders.

"Triela, are you alright?" Rico asked as she peered into the van's rear window, scaring the distracted Triela. The men were talking about reports that needed to be signed so Triela didn't focus on them.

"Yeah, I guess my wounds still hurt. How about you? You also got shot."

"I'm okay. Jean said that they're just flesh wounds so they shouldn't hurt." Rico replied with her usual innocent smile.

"I see."

"You look red. Are you sure you're ok?"

"Rico! We're leaving."

Both cyborgs looked over to where the handlers were and then like a puppy called by its master Rico hurried over to Jean's side. But before she turned the corner, Rico looked back at Triela and placed her forefinger vertically against her lips and gave the older girl a wink.

"Triela, are you ok?" Hillshire asked as he revved up the van's engine.

"Ah, yes," Triela replied as she moved to the front passenger seat, now wearing Hillshire's coat.

They drove on in silence, no one had the courage to say what was in their hearts for both knew that theirs was a fragile bond. Illusory as it is illicit. Feelings that may not be true, a love that may have been born of confusion, and emotional and psychological manipulation. And if it was true, they couldn't act on it due to their relationship as guardian and ward, mentor and student, Handler and Cyborg. Furtive touches, hidden kisses. The Agency kept a close watch on the relationship between Handler and Cyborg due to the case of Elsa de Sica. And though there were no precedence, Triela didn't want to know how the Agency will handle a Fratello that crossed the line.

"Triela, you're crying," Hillshire said as he handed her a handkerchief.

She took the handkerchief with one hand while she held on to his hand with the other.

02 April 2008


End file.
